I’d Be More Apathetic if I Weren’t So Lethargic

Honestly, I get it. But then again, I kind of don’t. Why do people always wait until the 1st of January before they initiate all of those lofty, life-altering projects of radical self improvement? I’ve never believed in making new year’s resolutions because I’ve never viewed the start of a new year as a monumental event. Life is life, no matter the date, and no matter the year. The quality of life is generally unaffected by the numerical value that we’ve assigned to our days.

Whenever people tell me they plan to lose weight as part of their new year’s resolution, I always have to prevent myself from blurting out something snarky like, “I never knew being a fat-ass was a seasonal condition.” Okay, so I’m a sarcastic, holiday-bashing asshole, but at least I’m skinny, you Auld Lang Syne bitches! But seriously, consider this: I lost thirty pounds in 2009 between the months of May and August. When I finally got serious about losing weight, I didn’t stop to make sure that the earth had made its full rotation around the sun before I got my shit together. If there’s something that needs to be done, and you aren’t doing what you’re supposed to be doing, then don’t blame the position of the planet for your lack of action.

So on that note, I’m going to contradict myself and make a new year’s resolution without any sense of irony. I resolve in 2010 to write a novel. I’ve been kicking around ideas for more than eight years now, and all of my good intentions have amounted to an unimpressive collection of notes and infrequent blog entries. This year will be different. I’m not sure what I’m going to write about, and I’m not sure if what I have to say is really all that worthwhile. I just know that I have to try for once, instead of coasting dreamlessly through the gentle, ferocious monotony.